Eagle Feathers
by Ada C. Eliana
Summary: An alternate ending to The Dark Light by Mette Newth. What could have happened if Endre returned before the end of the novel.


**This story is a one-shot alternate ending to the novel "The Dark Light" by Mette Newth. It's not a crossover, but this was the only category I could find to place it in.**

**I wrote this for a class assignment a while back, and really liked how it came out.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the charactersor theoriginal storyline, just this particular work.**

* * *

_Eagle Feathers_

By: Sarah Shima

* * *

As Endre stepped off of the ship and onto the docks of Bergen, he already knew he was too late. His clothes were stiff from dried saltwater, and hanging off of his thin frame. Many had starved to death on the ship; he was lucky to be alive. From behind him came the few sailors who remained, helping those stricken with scurvy and disease to the safety of land. Their catch was nearly spoiled, there was a slim chance that they would profit much from their troubles. Far out in sea they had encountered a storm; gale winds, and rough seas tossed their ship about. The ship had been flooded twice, and nearly capsized, however the rapid actions of the captain had saved them. 

When Endre had taken ill, it was not Erik, the gentle man who cared for the sick and ironically shared the name of Endre's sadistic brother, who saved him. Not the fresh fish they had finally caught far out to sea, or the last of the fruits and vegetables, which they hoarded and consumed up to its last moments of purity. No, what had saved him was the knowledge that far across the waters, outside a bustling city in Norway existed a girl who was becoming weaker by the day. He saw her when he closed his eyes, the boils spreading across her face, how difficult it had become for her to walk. Ever since he left Norway he felt as if he had some sort of connection with her, that he could feel her, and see her, what she doing, what she looked like. He woke from his fevered sleep to the sounds of her screams piercing his ears as her feet were amputated. He had gasped for breath, shaking, her pain rushing through him. After that his illness had worsened. However, Endre knew he had to survive, because he had to see Tora again.

When he had finally recovered, Endre felt increasingly impatient. He could tell that his time was running short, if he did not make it back to Bergen soon, his wish would not be fulfilled. He imagined her the way she was the last time her saw her, bedridden by pneumonia, every time he came close to her she pushed him away. He knew she just wanted to protect him from her disease, but he felt a sharp pain in his heart when she turned away from him. He closed his eyes and thought of her, sitting on a bed with an eagle feather in her hands, thinking of him. Did she think of him? Endre was not sure, perhaps she meant it when she pushed him away; perhaps she would not be happy to see him again. However, he could not think about that, he needed to believe that Tora missed him; that Tora wanted to see him again.

Endre thought back on all of the time they had spent together before he left the farm. That was how he knew he would always remember her, jumping rocks to get across the streams, playing dangerous games, and watching for birds. He contemplated how their lives would be, the way he did before he found out that she had leprosy. He would have found her a job in Bergen. They would marry, and have children. No matter how hard anything was the two of them would have made it, because they would have each other. But her leprosy changed everything. It was not that he feared her or her disease, only that time was not on their side. They might never be together. That was why Endre was so impatient to get to Bergen. The fishing trip took far too long; he knew that he might never see her again.

Now that he was back in Bergen, he knew there was no time to lose, yet he could not bring himself to move. He was afraid, more afraid than he could ever remember being; afraid that she was already gone, afraid that she did not want to see him.

A man approached Endre and interrupted his thoughts. "You had better be careful. There have been riots all day. They had to bring the soldiers in to break it up. But when they started to punish the peasants, another riot broke out," the man warned. Endre thanked him, and the man walked away.

Endre took a deep breath and then walked into the streets. As he passed the main square on his way to St. Jørgen's, he saw the remnants of the riots; rocks lay strewn about, blood stained the streets. Endre shivered, he hoped that the riots had not spread to the hospital. He heard footsteps in the fading light and turned. Two soldiers were carrying off a man who appeared to have been beaten to death. A shattered violin lay on the ground.

Endre's heart was beating rapidly when he reached the gate to St. Jørgen's. He entered the yard slowly, yet resolutely. As he entered the main door, a man walked toward him. The man did not seem to be a leper. He regarded Endre with suspicion, which Endre assumed was to be expected after what must have happened in the city. Endre opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat to be constricted. He swallowed hard, and then finally spoke, "T…Tora… where is Tora?" Endre asked softly. The man's eyes glittered in recognition.

"This way," the man, Olaf, said, gesturing for Endre to follow him. He led Endre down the hall and to a small bedroom. Within the room lay three figures, an old woman against the window, a young girl on the bed near the door, and lying on a mattress which sat on the floor between the two beds was her. It was Tora.

Endre hurried forward and kneeled beside her. "Tora, Tora!" he shouted, grasping her cold, sore-covered hands in his. "Tora!" There were tears in his eyes now. Her breathing was slow, harsh, yet a smile graced her lips. Her eyes flickered open.

"Endre… we're leaving…" she whispered, her voice soft. She gazed at him for just a moment, and then her eyes closed forever. Warm tears flowed down his cheeks. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to tell her. Now he would never have the chance. He was too late; Tora was gone.

"Tora… I love you," he whispered. He leaned forward and kissed her.

* * *

After the funeral Endre stood before her grave a long while. He still could not believe that Tora was gone, his future, the one he had dreamed of for years, was gone, all because of leprosy. But he could not think of that now, he needed to think of Tora, Tora running through the fields, the wind playing in her skirt, Tora sitting beside him in the fading daylight, the sun turning her hair a more shocking red. Tora, the expression on her face when he told her he would return for her. He knew then that he would always donate to the hospital, always give back to the place where Tora had lived out her last years, where she had drawn her last breath. 

As the sun set once more, Endre decided it was time to leave the grave. However before he went, he placed something on top of the fresh earth. As he walked away, the light caught that item, illuminating it against the dark ground. It lay there for several days, undisturbed by the wind as if even the air respected its presence. On top of the mound was the symbol of Tora and Endre's bond to each other, a single eagle feather.

* * *

**I would love to know what you thought.**

**_Sarah Shima_**


End file.
